


Noticed

by UndeniableEnigma



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeniableEnigma/pseuds/UndeniableEnigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve been in at St. Bart’s for the better half of the morning, and he still hasn't been able to put his finger on what’s different about Molly’s hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noticed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TennantsLittleKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TennantsLittleKitten/gifts).



> I'm not a Sherlolly shipper, but my pal is, so this was a wee treat for her Birthday this year.

It’s different, he thinks. There is certainly something different about it, but what?

They’ve been in at St. Bart’s for the better half of the morning, and he still hasn’t been able to put his finger on what’s different about Molly’s hair. It’s nothing drastic, no neon purple highlights or gaudy baubles tucked into it, but the subtle detail of why it had caught his attention is eluding him.

He had finished analysing the samples he needed checked 47 minutes ago, but still he puttered around the lab bench, fiddling with tubes and pretending to adjust the lens magnification, all in an effort to ascertain what’s different about the coroner’s hair.

It looks soft and light, no visible products, no obvious fussing over it with any heating tools. The front is done in that gentle flippy thing he’s seen her sport before when out somewhere or for dates with Tom. But unlike those times the back is hanging down, not up and twisted like usual. It’s almost as if she started to do it and then stopped.

Sherlock paused, thinking… Started nice hair do, usually reserved for special occasions or to make an impression, stopped or gave up, came in looking haggard but still smiling genuinely, pace up the stairs and down hallway were at an elevated rate to her usual gait, but slowed considerably while approaching door; excited then controlled. Soft soled shoes, practical pants, favorite lavender jumper, the pearl drop earrings her parents gave her for graduating Uni; outfit of physical and emotional comfort.  Lip balm, not stick, no other makeup, but the Mandarin Spice perfume he once complemented; not trying to dazzle or put in much effort, but still careful choices, no rush.

All the information blasted through his mind, coming to rest at the conclusion that Molly initially planned to look particularly nice today, but then changed her mind, instead settling for what she feels best in and seeming resigned to- Oh, she was going to dress for him. And then decided there was no point. Why bother for him, it would never matter. But still she wore the perfume. This again.

Over the past months he had gradually become more aware of the effect he had on Molly, or more specifically, how that effect manifested in her own actions. A man with his powers of observation would hardly be able to miss it, but with his growing awareness came feelings like never before. Feelings he was unable to parse or stop.

Instead of ignoring the looks she gave him he analysed every one, rather than purposely avoid commenting on life in any way he found himself frequently engaging her in conversation on a multitude of topics. If she obviously did something for his benefit he found himself appreciating the gesture, but if she seemed at all indifferent to him in any way he felt wronged.

This wasn’t simply an arrogant man losing one of his most captive admirers, but something that had seeped under his skin and into his bones in a way that terrified him like nothing ever really had.

It was something that Sherlock Holmes was incapable of truly understanding. And it was getting the better of him.

Seemingly, it was all to cumulate today, in him almost involuntarily thinking of all the opportunities that had been presented over the years, the ones he noticed, and all the ones he likely didn’t. He desperately wanted one of those opportunities right now.

 

“Molly, would you-“ here he stopped, cutting the words off. He could see the way her eyes got a bit brighter, could see how it didn’t matter whether he asked her to go for coffee, dinner, Antarctica or just to pass him the bone saw, her answer was going to be in the affirmative.

And while he appreciated the reassurance and safety it allowed him, it was also something he abhorred.

The knowledge that he could continue to dance merrily around his feelings for the foreseeable future, and she’d still be there; still trying to will herself into a meaningful relationship with someone else, still trying to catch his eye, still trying to stop wanting to catch his eye.

 She would keep waiting for him, and keep believing in him and he could keep pretending he didn’t want her to.

Life would go on. Cases would come. Nothing would really change but the seasons.

That wasn’t what he wanted anymore though. He couldn’t say he understood it all, that it was completely logical, but he did know what he wanted. The human conviction in his own desires was something he could grasp, even if everything else was a tad hazy right now.

So he didn’t bother to finish his sentence or to start a new one. Instead of blowing it off, turning it round or switching to something easier to say he simply said nothing. He acted.

Three long strides was all it took to bring him right in front of her, and an arm curled around her back was all that was needed to pull them flush together. With his other arm wrapping around her shoulders the hug became tighter, and she was tucked perfectly into his embrace.

Pulling back almost as quickly as he had grabbed her, the moment of shock that parted her lips in question gave him the opportunity he needed. Swiftly, but gently, he lowered his mouth, her top lip softly fitting between both of his. At first she remained still, soon clinging tighter, only to move back and look up.

“Sherlock, what are-“. He brought his left hand up and let his thumb rest on her lips, effectively quieting her question.

“I have come to the conclusion Molly Hooper”, he said, “that I desperately need to address the fact that you are a very significant presence in my life and that I am not sure what I would do should I ever lose you”. He paused before continuing with a sharpness to his eyes, “Nor do I intend to ever find out”.

He shifted them, curling around her more and pushing his hand further to slide into her loose hair. Flipped in the front, down in the back.

“If it’s quite alright, I’m going to kiss you again”, his voice by now a low rumble.

And without waiting for confirmation other than the pleased surprise in her eyes he proceeded to do just that.


End file.
